


Perennials

by thawrecka



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thawrecka/pseuds/thawrecka
Summary: Yumichika thinks on things breaking and being rebuilt.





	Perennials

[1] Things that are lovely: Beautiful flowers reaching out their soft, silky petals towards the light. That shade of green of the new shoots of Spring on all those hopeful little stems and buds pushing out of the ground. That smile on Ikkaku's face when he wins a fight. That almost weightless feeling mid-flight when his sword sings through the air, tearing open anything in its path. Neatly packaged food in the human world, its delights only opening to him if he has the patience to unfold its wrapper. The hot red sky at sunset that tints everything beneath it with a rosy glow.

 

[2] Spring in Seireitei and the world is rebuilding around them. Every day the buildings rise higher, the streets unfold in more elaborate patterns, and everything looks so much closer to how it was before the Quincies attacked. Of course, there is still rebuilding to be done in people's hearts. There are things lost that cannot be returned. And yet...

Yumichika knows as well as anyone that it's easier to destroy than heal, and yet there is something between he and Ikkaku that is stronger than ever.

At this moment, they are rebuilding the 11th Division together. In an entirely literal sense, where Yumichika is ordering people about while they carry heavy things, so people won't have to sleep in tents any more like barbarians, and Ikkaku is trying to do the carpentry himself, as if he weren't too high a rank for that. Well, he's always been somewhat ridiculous like that. In a brief moment where they pause in reconstruction to catch their breath, Yumichika catches his eye and they smile at each other, with every gentle feeling inside them.

 

[3] Later, as they have a drink at the end of the night, Yumichika can see the other way Spring is rebuilding Seireitei. All the couples hiding in what few dark corners they have, as if anyone can't see them anyway. Some of the passions, he can tell, will only bloom briefly. Some are like moon flowers, shrivelling in the light of day.

Some, however, look evergreen, and as he watches Renji and Rukia argue about something at the other side of the table he thinks he'd be very surprised if they didn't announce a marriage soon enough. And he does so love a wedding...

He turns to Ikkaku to say as much, but of course Ikkaku takes that moment to fall onto his shoulder and start to snore. As expected. He waves away every offer to help and takes Ikkaku to bed on his own.

 

[4] At night in Rukongai they would huddle for warmth, especially in the bitterness of winter, when all they had was body heat to keep them alive. Now they huddle for the simple pleasure of being close.

He looks upon Ikkaku's face, flushed against the pillow. In sleep he sprawls all over in a most inelegant fashion, heavy and hard to stir. Like a man who isn't afraid of what might wake him any more. Yumichika never quite learned how to do that. He can still try.

_We're alive and I didn't lose you_ , he thinks, settling down under the blanket. The fears he's held inside for so long he's trying to dismantle, to break so he can be rebuilt.

_Maybe one day I'll tell you a secret. When we're ready. Not yet._

 

[5] Sunrise can be lovely, too.


End file.
